


Independence Day

by grayscale



Category: Johnny's Entertainment, Kis-My-Ft2 (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-13
Updated: 2013-08-13
Packaged: 2017-12-23 08:29:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/924118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grayscale/pseuds/grayscale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Somehow, six years later, here they are drunkenly stumbling into the elevator of some American hotel after just having gotten married in Vegas. </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Independence Day

**Author's Note:**

> This is a companion to [public affair, the _on and on and on_ remix](http://faded-lace.livejournal.com/394337.html), which is a remix of the work by the lovely . It probably can stand alone, but it won't make much sense if you don't read the other one first!

Early July in Las Vegas is nothing like in Tokyo, Kitayama thinks as stumbles up the walkway towards the hotel. He's sure right now, his friends must be melting in the midday humidity back home, Tama and Miyata and Senga in rehearsals for Dream Boys and Nika helping out with Playzone this year and Yokoo wrapping up filming for his latest drama, but here, now that it's almost eleven and the sun's been down for hours, it's cooled off to a reasonable temperature. The dry heat is a new experience, too, still painful to endure for too long but not suffocating the way that the moisture in the air is back home. Back home, he thinks, being like this would be disgusting from the heat and the sweat alone, but now, stumbling towards the hotel lobby with Fujigaya's arm draped over his shoulders is almost pleasant, somehow. Drunk as he is, at least-- he'll take that as his excuse, though he supposes sloshedly it's a bit of a moot point, anyway. 

"I love you~~~" Fujigaya coos into his ear, as if on cue, as they make it through the doors and across the lobby towards the elevators, and Kitayama rolls his eyes. Fujigaya is definitely drunker than he is, that's for sure, but even Kitayama can't manage much more than a "Shut up, people will hear you, dumbfuck," in his current giddy state. He knows it's a dumb response, even drunk as he is, because no one here probably understands Japanese or even knows who they are-- they've been here for the past few weeks to film scenes for a new movie, and while a healthy crowd of fans had shown up to the filming sites each day, the numbers definitely haven't been comparable to the fans in Japan. But he has to gripe something back, because that's just the way things are, that's just they way things have always been between them, even since-- especially since-- they'd first gotten together almost six years back. A lot has changed since then, of course, at work and amongst their friends and in their group, and for a while, Kitayama had thought things would change between he and Fujigaya after a while, too, that feelings would change or cool off or disappear. But somehow, six years later, here they are, drunkenly stumbling into the elevator of some American hotel after just having gotten married in Vegas. 

Even looking back now, only a few hours later, Kitayama can see how the whole thing is ridiculous, and he's fairly certain it's going to be even more ridiculous in the morning, but they'd finally had their crank up this morning, and what better way to celebrate, they had both thought, than getting smashed at one o'clock in the afternoon? They were leaving Vegas tomorrow, so it was best to go out with a bang-- in that way, they'd always been similar, even when their differences had been tearing them apart. But somehow, one drink had led to the next had led to them giggling like drunken schoolgirls with twenty-dollar rings on their hands as they tumbled out of some quickie Vegas wedding chapel and right back into the closest bar they could find. It had somehow seemed like a good idea at the time-- six years was a long time, especially considering all that they had been through-- but, well, Kitayama can't help but think as he leans against the back of the mirrored elevator wall, staring back into Fujigaya's flush-cheeked reflection, even if the others are going to give them shit, even if their friends are going to tease them, hell, even if their staff is going to scold them… it doesn't seem like it was such a bad choice even now. 

But Kitayama doesn't have too much time to think about it as the elevator reaches their floor and they manage to make it to their hotel room, fumbling with the lock and practically tripping over one another in their tandem attempt to get inside. Kitayama flops down on one of the beds as the sound of fireworks cracks into the air outside, cackling to himself as Fujigaya jumps at the sudden noise. "What the fuck?" he swears, staggering over to fall down next to Kitayama on the mattress, "Why've they been doing…" he struggles with words, gesturing vaguely in the air, " _that_ all day?" 

"It's some holiday in America," Kitayama responds matter-of-factly, cocking an eyebrow and looking at Fujigaya as if he's stupid, even though he's not entirely sure the reason either. "Like, Independence Day or something." Fujigaya only gives the window a glare as another loud firework punctuates Kitayama's words before shrugging and flopping down right next to Kitayama, so that their shoulders are bumping. "It's a holiday for us, too~" he replies with a suggestive quirk of his eyebrows, and while Kitayama can't help but roll his eyes, somehow, the fact that Fujigaya is still behaving like a stupid teenager trying to impress a girl at a party with him after six years is a little bit endearing, and so, "If you say so," he responds before cutting off any further conversation with a kiss. 

They've kissed hundreds of times before, dozens of times in this bed, even, in the time that they've been filming here, but somehow, stupid and romantic as it seems, this feels different, things feel different now. _Better_ , Kitayama thinks with what little coherency he has left after all the alcohol and the excitement and Fujigaya's mouth hot and wet against his own, and maybe that's silly, but maybe it's exactly right, maybe, after all the years of flaking out and blowing the rest of the group off, after acting like he was too good for KisuMai, for Kitayama time and time again, after he really and truly had almost left them all behind… maybe this little tiny gesture of commitment really is enough to make things just about perfect. 

But that's far too much to think about when he has Fujigaya practically on top of him now-- he's drunk enough that the kiss is the only incentive he needs to basically topple on top of Kitayama completely. Kitayama lets out a groan of protest at the weight and sudden impact, but before he can break the kiss to complain, Fujigaya is more than making up for it with his mouth, kissing him like he really, really means it, and Kitayama figures that's good enough for him. For Fujigaya to mean it is all he's ever wanted, and so it feels only right for him to quit overthinking everything and give just as good as he's getting. 

The beds in the room are squishy, far squishier than Kitayama would have expected for a cheap hotel room like this, but he suppose that that's America for you, and he can't help but chuckle into the kiss as Fujigaya struggles to maneuver himself over the mattress. His hands and knees sink into the plush bedspread, but eventually, he manages to straddle Kitayama, hands cupping Kitayama's cheeks and angling his head just so, just right. Normally, Kitayama wouldn't just lay back and let himself be manhandled that way; he's never been one not to fight for dominance at times like these, but the touch is somehow endearing, the feel of Fujigaya's hands warm even against Kitayama's flushed face, and so Kitayama doesn't fight, just kisses Fujigaya back like they could go on like this forever. 

But honestly, that isn't _really_ what he wants, and he gives a gasp of appreciation when suddenly, Fujigaya's mouth is at his jaw, his throat, his collarbone. He's been in Johnny's long enough to know that it would be a mistake to get all marked up, they both have, but the movie filming is done and they're going to be sitting on a plane for the next 10 hours and hey, _it's their wedding night_ , and so he doesn't push Fujigaya back when he lingers at each spot for just a little too long. It feels right, to stay joined this way for as long as possible, anyway, and Kitayama knots his fingers in Fujigaya's hair as Fujigaya's fingers begin to work at the buttons of Kitayama's shirt and Fujigaya's lips continue their trail lower still. As much as he's been loathe to admit it in the past, Kitayama has always been impressed by Fujigaya's ability to undress someone without neglecting everything else; it's a feat of multitasking that Kitayama has never really been able to accomplish. But hey, who is he to complain if Fujigaya wants to do all the work? The others might tease, but Kitayama is glad to lay on his back and let Fujigaya make him feel good. 

But even Fujigaya can only do so much at once, especially drunk as he is, and so when he pulls back to tug off his own shirt, Kitayama does his part in squirming out of his sleeves and tossing his shirt off the bed before dropping back in amongst the pillows and looking up at Fujigaya through his lashes as Fujigaya finally manages to free himself. He turns back to Kitayama with a smirk, commenting, "You look so hot like that, baby," and while Kitayama wishes he could say it was the alcohol talking, he knows Fujigaya thinks that he's being sexy. Then again, it's something that's become endearing about Fujigaya over the last six years, and so Kitayama only rolls his eyes with half-grin, grabbing Fujigaya by the shoulders and pulling him in for another kiss. 

The feeling of Fujigaya's bare skin against his own is good; they're both sweaty after a long day in the heat, and normally, Kitayama might have insisted that Fujigaya at least shower off before getting into Kitayama's bed, but today of all days, he decides, he can let it slide. _And they say romance is dead_ , he thinks to himself with a bit of a grin, but it isn't long before Fujigaya's taking up all of his thoughts again, his tongue wet and slick in Kitayama's mouth and his hands tracing pleasant trails up and down Kitayama's sides and his heart beating right up against Kitayama's as they lay chest to chest. Kitayama runs his hands down Fujigaya's bare back before pressing his palms flat against Fujigaya's shoulder blades, pulling him closer still, if that's even possible. 

But even if it isn't, Fujigaya seems to take the hint, and a second later, Kitayama is breaking the kiss with a strangled cry of surprise when Fujigaya suddenly grinds his hips down against Kitayama's. It's the logical next step, of course, and Kitayama has had sex with Fujigaya so many times before that by now, he ought to know Fujigaya's style. But loathe as Kitayama has always been to admit it, Fujigaya really does know what he's doing in bed, and hey, he thinks, now that they're _married_ , shouldn't he be pleased that his husband is a sex fiend? The thought is just plain ridiculous, however, and there are much more pressing issues at hand, like how Fujigaya's hips grinding against his own are driving him crazy with pleasure and frustration that they both still have their pants on. 

And so, after a few more glorious moments of shameless grinding, Kitayama manages to work up the willpower to shove his hands between them, finding Fujigaya's button and zipper and tugging them both open with some effort. He isn't going to do all the work, though, and so once he's confident that Fujigaya has the right idea, he moves to his own pants, doing the same before shoving them as far off his hips as he can manage in their current position. It's not exactly elegant, but then again, nothing about today has been ever since they'd rolled drunkenly into that wedding chapel however many hours ago, and, Kitayama thinks, who the fuck gives a damn. It's honest, everything has been, and even flashy as he is, right now, that's just what he needs. 

But more pressingly, what he needs right now is more, and so he squirms his way out of his pants just as Fujigaya is finally kicking off his own, and then Kitayama's mind is wiped completely blank when Fujigaya's hips are suddenly grinding against his own again, this time with nothing in the way. The feeling draws a low groan of appreciation from Kitayama's lips as he arches back against Fujigaya, doing his best to make it better for both of them. Fujigaya kisses him in response, and even if it only lasts a few moments before they both break apart with gasps on their lips, Kitayama appreciates the sentiment, his fingers once again curling in Fujigaya's hair in an attempt to keep him close just a little bit longer. 

It isn't long, however, before Fujigaya finds the willpower to pull away, and Kitayama grunts in annoyance as his arms fall back to his sides. "Needy, _honey_ ~?" Fujigaya taunts, leaning over Kitayama to fumble around on the nightstand for the lube and condoms. "Fuck you," Kitayama replies eloquently, giving Fujigaya a halfhearted punch in the shoulder, but there's no real bite to his words or actions. Still, this may be their "wedding night," but Kitayama isn't going to let Fujigaya off the hook completely… it just wouldn't feel right. 

He only rolls his eyes, however, when Fujigaya settles back between his legs with a singsong reply of, "Maybe next time~", and grumpily spreads his legs. "Well hurry up, then," he replies, kicking Fujigaya in the side when it takes him seemingly eight years to open the tube and get his fingers slicked. 

"I know you want me~" Fujigaya replies, infuriatingly unaffected by Kitayama's antagonism, and everything sounds the same as usual, but somehow, Kitayama doesn't think it's his imagination when it feels like Fujigaya takes everything a little bit slower, a little bit more gently. It's nice at first, but once Fujigaya's got three fingers in him, his other hand wrapped around Kitayama's cock, Kitayama is ready to move on, and so, "Come _on_ ," he grinds out, rocking his hips up into Fujigaya's touch and trying to get him to stop his teasing already. 

And to his surprise, Fujigaya complies, pulling away and leaning in to plant a single, firm kiss on Kitayama's lips before leaning back again to grab for a condom. Kitayama blinks up at him; he was expecting a drawn out process, or at least more verbal teasing, but Fujigaya only smiles as he tears open the packet and prepares himself. It's quite the sight to behold, really, Fujigaya slicking himself up, and no matter how many times Kitayama has seen this scene before, he feels almost like he's blushing, his cock twitching in anticipation. "Hurry up--" he's about to complain again, but before the words are even all the way out of his mouth, Fujigaya is there, broad hands gripping Kitayama's hips as he slowly presses inside. 

It's like Fujigaya to take it slow, to draw things out, because self-centered and annoying as he is, he really does know what he's doing, but somehow, it feels different today. Kitayama's toes curl at the sensation of slowly being forced open, the dull ache barely more than a teasing hint of what's to come anymore, and he can't bite back a whimper as Fujigaya finally seats himself all the way inside, eyes squeezing shut in mental preparation for what's about to come. 

But rather than any movement, rather than the sudden out-and-in that Kitayama was expecting, his eyes shoot open once again when suddenly, Fujigaya's lips are against his own, one hand finding Kitayama's, fingers intertwining with Kitayama's fingers. "Okay?" he asks quietly against Kitayama's lips, and somehow, in that word, in that sentiment, Kitayama feels as if something warm has exploded in his chest and is enveloping his entire body, mingling with the arousal to become something else altogether, something overwhelming. He's never felt as if his sex life with Fujigaya was lacking in the past, but… well, he supposes, today _is_ supposed to be special. 

And so, "More than okay," he responds in a thick whisper into Fujigaya's mouth, kissing him one more time before Fujigaya breaks away again, pulling out and thrusting right back in in one fluid movement, his hand still clasping Kitayama's tightly. It seems like it ought to be too much, but Fujigaya knows Kitayama's body probably better than even Kitayama himself anymore, and his thrusts build in depth and accuracy almost from the get-go. " _God_ , Taisuke," Kitayama grinds out, his fingers curling around Fujigaya's own, and somehow, like this, it feels as if they're not two different people but one, connected physically and emotionally and maybe that's complete crap, but Fujigaya is making him feel so good that he doesn't care. 

Soon Fujigaya's pace is reaching a breakneck speed, and while Kitayama would usually gripe about being ignored, some embarrassing part of him would rather keep holding Fujigaya's hand than have him let go for any reason, and so his own free hand finds its way to wrap around his cock as he rocks his hips up even harder into Fujigaya's thrusts. "Fuck--" Fujigaya gasps, gazing down at Kitayama with dark eyes, hazy with pleasure, "Fuck, you feel so good like this, you look so good like this--" And foolish as it seems, that's what pushes Kitayama over the edge. He comes with a wail that may or may not have sounded a little like Fujigaya's name, but it hardly matters, because Fujigaya follows suit almost immediately, and there's no mistaking his moan for anything other than _Mitsu_. 

They collapse on top of one another in a sticky mess as fireworks suddenly begin again outside, seemingly as if on cue. Usually, Kitayama would complain and kick Fujigaya off of him, but loathe as he'd be to admit it, somehow, right now, this seems just about right. He runs his fingers up and down Fujigaya's back as he takes a deep breath, relaxing into the squishy American mattress feeling warm and sated and something else that he doesn't quite know how to describe-- or maybe he does, and he just doesn't want to say it. The stupid cheap rings on their left hands glinting in the reflected firework glow from the window say it well enough anyway. 

"Happy…" Fujigaya trails, snuggling warmly into the crook of Kitayama's neck, "…you know." 

And, "yeah," Kitayama agrees, rather than giving Fujigaya a hard time for forgetting the name of the American holiday or for being gushy and romantic or for being sweaty and sticky and gross all over him, because he does know.


End file.
